Red vs Blue The Carnage Trial
by StreetFlare
Summary: My Red vs. Blue fanfic, finally up and running. Introducing an array of fancharacters and a new foe, TCT will show a new side to your fav. Spartans, and hopefully take you on a journey. Rated T for language.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**End of the Human/Covenant War, aboard the Covenant Supercarrier _Brute Stroke_**

The team assembled within the docking bay of the _Brute Stroke_, getting off the Covenant Troop Carrier that the Covenant Separatists had provided. A team of five Spartans, an equal number of Elites, plus ten ODSTs and a pair of bond-brother Hunters all stood around, with most taking the time to double-check their weapon conditions. Finally, the leader spoke. Dressed in standard Mk. VI Spartan armor, painted orange with a silver flame decal, he struck an imposing figure.

"Ok, team, you know your duty. We're here to stop this Supercarrier from simply flying up to Installation 04B, and blasting the daylights outta John-117 and the rest of our people on that Halo system. Now, we've all been trained for a mission that could win the war, but this is a babysitting job. Not that it'll be easy. Ah, hell, I suck at public speaking, so let's just leave it at this – if you've gotta die, die proud. If not, shoot straight, and run fast." This prompted a cheer from the squad, who quickly stepped to the sides to allow the Hunters to open the door. A single Assault Cannon blast and they were in. Instantly, the Hunters allowed the more agile Elites and Spartans through, with the ODSTs moving along behind. The squad leader looked out over his people, taking a moment to relax. Then, all hell broke loose. A careless ODST stumbled into a corridor, right in front of a Brute Major, who instantly opened fire with his Spiker, taking the man in his torso, punching through the armor like butter. However, he fumbled on the draw with his second Spiker, resulting in a second ODST and one of the Spartans, a two-tone green one, opening fire, the ODST with an assault rifle, the Spartan with a Plasma rifle. The beast took round after round and managed to raise its second Spiker, but the Spartan acted faster, hurling a spike grenade into the Brute's stomach. It collapsed, torn to shreds from the inside.

"Nice kill, X-ray." From the lazy, slight twinge on the voice, it had to be the team leader.

"Thanks Flare. Now let's find a wider chamber already, those spikes nearly blew back to us. Nearly put us on the barbie, instead of that shrimp." Flare laughed at his Australian colleague, then gestured for the team to keep moving with his left hand, his right clamped tightly around a Beam Rifle, the gun sporting slight modifications faint to all but a knowledgeable observer. Alarms started to ring out, and a rhythmic thudding in the corridor implied that something was coming. As if they had been waiting for that, the entire team moved, with the ODSTs in the lead, moving with a quick but wary pace, covering every doorway and corner with their primary weapons. The Spartans, Elites, and Hunters, on the other hand, simply barreled down the corridor until they reached a larger section, already blockaded by a mixture of Jackals and Grunts, a handful of Brute Minors and a single Brute Captain further back in the field. Flare stopped, and without waiting for his teammates to cover him, raised his Beam Rifle, sighted, and fired, all in the one fluid motion. His shot blasted forward, straight and true, and picked off the Brute Captain with ease, the beam passing through the massive alien's eye. Instantly, Chaos broke out. Grunts began to panic and ran towards the coalition force, only for a third Spartan, her armor all-over silver with a pair of extremely large pistols sticking out of shoulder holsters, to start mowing them down with a pair of SMGs, no shot wasted as she fired into the growing mob of frenzied aliens. Rapidly, she was overtaken by a pair of Elite, who didn't even bother with using their weapons, but tore into the Grunts with their bare hands, ripping the small aliens apart with the daggers in their gauntlets. The head Elite, clad in black armor emblazoned with gold, moved forward, as did the remaining Spartans and Elites, the Hunters and ODSTs covering the rear until one found the door controls, shutting the blast door behind them, sealing it with a bullet to the controls. The black and gold Elite tapped Flare on the shoulder and pulled him down a small dead-end passage, loading up a holographic map on a small wrist-mounted computer.

"The command center is nearby. The ship captain will be there. In order to eliminate this ship as a threat, we need to clear this room and prepare for a hard run, Flare."  
His counterpart nodded. "I see exactly what you mean, Slay'ethor. I've fought the captain of this ship, Thantos, before. He's no tactician, no Sanghelli, but he's a mean fighter, and brutal, as you'd expect. However, if I can bait him into close combat, then you, in command of the rest of the team, might be able to take out his honor guard and the bridge crew." Slay'ethor nodded, and gestured to the other Sanghelli and the pair of Hunters, speaking something in the Covenant language. Flare, in turn, walked over to the human soldiers and joined in their firefight, taking out the Brutes that dared emerge from side passages with his Beam Rifle.

Finally, no more emerged, and the Spartans simply switched off, checking their weapons and relaxing. Flare approached the two Spartans whom hadn't made themselves obvious to him before, a young woman in black armor and a guy in pink armor, emblazoned with Hello Kitty decals and a pink assault rifle slung across his back, a Spartan Laser his current weapon.

"So, Layton, Allison, how're you holding up with your first taste of a commando run?" The girl shrugged, examining her rifle carefully, before looking back up to the leader.  
"Fine, commander. The armor enhancements Dr. Church provided me are well worth it." Before the orange Spartan could comment, the girl turned and walked over to one of the others. The pink guy turned to face his commanding officer, smirking.  
"That wasn't nice of her, boss. I'm fine, thanks for asking. Running a little low on ammo for my rifle, though. Had to switch to my backup." Flare sighed.  
"Layton, that's an anti-armor weapon. Not anti-infantry, and defiantly not anti-Brute. Save your ammo, grab a new gun." Instantly, the pink-armored man began to protest, but Flare simply followed Allison's lead, turning and walking off a short distance. He gestured to his team, and one by one, they came. X-Ray and the girl with the SMGs were the first over, followed by Allison, Layton and the remaining ODSTs. Flare cleared his throat, and instantly, all focus was on him.

"Ok, folks, we're at the end of the line, nearly at the bridge. We've got a good stash of weapons here, so if you're running low on ammunition, switch to one of the Covenant weapon littering the ground here, or switch to your secondary weapon. Either way, keep your wits up and weapons too. Slay'ethor suggested a hard run, hard contact from here to the bridge, so be ready. When we reach the bridge, Slay'ethor will take command of your operations, and your mission is simple – eliminate the Covenant bridge officers. I plan to personally deal with the captain, Thantos. So, are we clear?"

"SIR YES SIR!" The ODSTs droned as one, their training overriding their personalities. The Spartans nodded, flicked thumbs up, sent him private messages between the helmets – anything to get their message across in a way that didn't scream 'I'm a marine, shoot me!' One picture message in particular, an image of a scantily clad woman in a silver helmet with a pair of SMGs and a message on the walls, marked 'Roger Command', was of private significance to him. Without the military knowing, one of the agents on his team, a girl by the codename of Magnum, was his girlfriend. She'd been the one to open up with her SMGs, and was the one posing for the photo. Flare smiled. This mission would be their last together, but he hoped it'd be the last of the war for both of them. Master Chief, the last SPARTAN-II, had his mission, and his team had theirs. Soon, Slay'ethor and his group started to move down the corridor, prompting the human forces to do the same, breaking into a jog as they barreled down the corridor behind the blood-brother Hunters. Here, the beasts did their job perfectly – any Brute to emerge from a side corridor was splattered by a Hunter's shield being slammed into their body at moderate speeds. Granted, the travel wasn't fast, but it worked. The Elites had the surviving enemies dealt with as well, with most of the former Covenant command troops simply stabbing surviving Brutes, or in the case of Slay'ethor's targets, twisting their neck past breaking point, a slower and more painful death.

The next thing Agent Flare knew, he was breaching the bridge behind the Hunters, watching the two beasts soak up fire and return a few Assault Cannon blasts towards the bridge crew. Suddenly, a loud thud was heard, and one of the two Hunters was launched into the air. The Covenant Separatist flew up at least eight feet into the air, before slamming back down to the ground, the orange worm-like aliens within leaking out through a fresh number of holes, slowly dying. Instantly, the second Hunter bellowed and charged at the threat, only to go flying sideways as a massive maroon Brute Chieftain, armed with a Gravity Hammer, struck his target with such force it was catapulted into a bank of computers, before slamming the hammer down on top of the crippled and enraged Separatist. The force of gravity striking the Hunter was too great, and its armor simply crumpled, the Mgalekgolo within crushed by the force.

The Jiralhanae Chieftain laughed, his deep voice ringing out throughout the bridge.

"So, Slay'ethor himself comes to kill me. And he brought humans..." The beast spat the words as if they had a foul aftertaste. "And a familiar face amongst them. The monstrosity. The one they call Flare. We have faced before…"  
"On the communications deck of one of your Supercarriers. I remember you, Thantos. You cost our war effort many trained soldiers, many lives. And, in remembrance to them, I challenge you." The Spartan's words seemed to pierce the air, and as his team watched, Thantos shifted. And then he laughed again. This time, it was less sinister, but a whole lot more menacing.

"I accept. It has been too long since the last time I killed a human with my hammer." Flare smirked and clipped his energy rifle to a strap over his shoulder. His hands reached up to his shoulders, grasping the two silver bars on his armor. Each thumb depressed a tiny button, and the two silver adornments unlatched themselves from the plates, sprouting blades as his hands wrapped around them. Instantly, instead of holding his beam rifle, Flare was holding a pair of Energy Swords.

"Let's dance, Thantos," he growled, before charging at his beastial foe. The Jiralhanae's booming laugh followed him.  
"Lets!" Instantly, Flare's senses seemed to widen as he forced his brain to take in more information, a skill he seemed unusually good at, when given the right stimulus. He could see the slight bunching of muscles in the alien's physiology, hinting at a hammer swing. He could feel the direction of the hammer's arc before it even started its arc. He could hear the tiny crunches of the Brute's feet on the metal floor, and that was enough for him. Before Thantos even had his gravity hammer raised to his shoulder for an overhead blow, Flare had dived to the side, his twin energy swords leaving a blue-tinted path behind the orange Spartan as he ducked around behind his beastly foe, puncturing the Chieftain's armor by stabbing both blades into the same spot, leaving the dual swords embedded in his shoulder. Quickly, he yanked the back out before the Brute could reach back and grab his Spartan assailant, then approached from the injured side, attempting to strike again. This time, however, Thantos was ready, and caught Flare with a horizontal swing from his gravity hammer. Amazingly, the soldier stood back up, dazed. Instantly, he dodged a leaping slam from the Brute, then straightened back up, leaping over the Jiralhanae's shoulder's to land a lucky strike into the back of the Brute's neck, forcing Thantos to his knees with an energy sword embedded to his spine.  
"Curse….you…ENEMY!" the crippled Brute screamed as it began to force itself to its feet. Flare approached, ready to finish his foe, but another voice stopped him.  
"I've got your back, boss!" Layton shouted, followed by the familiar sound of a Spartan Laser charging up.

"Layton, do not fire. I'm ordering you, do not fire. If you fire, I'm your target!" Flare shouted back to his team as Thantos lifted himself up, the orange Spartan placing himself between Thantos and Layton. The pink soldier, on the other hand, didn't seem to care, moving around so that he could see the critically wounded Brute past Flare, but at the last second, his aim wavered towards Flare.

"Layton, no!" Magnum screamed, but it was too late. Layton fired. The beam went straight through Flare's right leg, into Thantos' chest. The energy melted its way through the armor, the Brute's torso and out his back in a single blow. The Brute slumped, not quite dead, but obviously dying. For Flare, it was a whole new dimension of pain. He couldn't actually feel anything from his leg, but every single nerve ending going into that area was screaming in agony. Even so, he was still standing, adrenaline holding him up as his body started to bleed out. Instead, his right hand, the hand with no blade in it, grasped the plasma pistol at his side, pulling it out of its holster. He pressed the pistol up against his opponent's head, and without letting the pistol charge, fired. The blast was the last straw for Thantos, who collapsed, unmoving, to the deck. Then, Flare fell. His right leg stayed standing, but detached from his body by a massive circular hole as the Spartan officer passed out, his armor going into lockdown. Instantly, Slay'ethor had Layton against the wall, a blade to the Spartan's throat.  
"For treason, the punishment is death." The now-commanding officer started to press his energy dagger into Layton's neck, but X-ray came to his rescue.

"Slay'ethor, Layton is a human soldier, and as such should be tried as one. I ask if you can spare two Sanghelli, plus Magnum and Allison, to rush Flare back to Earth. He needs emergency medical treatment, so as long as they can stop the bleeding and keep him from bleeding out or dehydrating, he'll survive. We'll keep Layton here with us, but bound so he can no longer fire a weapon or do anything but move. When we return to Earth, he will be tried, and more than likely killed." The Elite looked at his old rival, a human he had grown to befriend, as he lay there, dying as his precious lifeblood leaked from his armor. He gestured to two of the Sanghelli commandos, barking something in their native tongue, before passing on the same message to the two girls.

"There is a dropship with a warp drive in the first hanger. Get him there, and get him back to Earth. Maybe, just maybe, they can save him." Allison nodded as she clipped her weapons back to their hardpoints. Magnum wasn't so willing to leave. Instead, she spun, grabbed Layton, and pressed her SMGs to his head.

"He killed Scotty, I kill him." The two black-suited Elites hoisted Flare's body and began the long walk to the dropship, leaving Allison to coax Magnum to stop. She never got the chance. X-ray shifted faster than she'd ever seen, his Plasma Pistol in hand before she could blink. At that same speed, he released an EMP burst into Magnum's armor, forcing it to release Layton into Slay'ethor's arms.

"Allison, get her out of here, she's a liability," he shouted. The black-suited Spartan nodded and grasped her silver teammate's arm as she led the weeping woman down the corridor. X-ray nodded.

"Now, shall we finish this mission, so we can wait for the final news in safety?"

On board the dropship, things weren't much different. Allison was locked out of the pilot compartment, instead trapped with a dying man in a cryotube, and Magnum. The airlock groaned as it sealed shut, the ship launching gently. As it did, Magnum ripped her helmet off. Her asymmetrical brown hair flopped in front of her left eye, and she sobbed noisily as she positioned herself on a bench designed to carry Brutes. Allison sighed, and approached the silver Spartan.  
"I…I really cared for him. Care. Hell, I just can't deal with this shit…" Allison slid next to her teammate and removed her own helmet to reveal blonde hair and piercing green eyes as she fixed the woman with a compassionate stare.

"Look, Kat, he'll live. My partner, Dr. Leonard Church, is a genius with technology, so if they can save his life, I'll make sure he walks and fights again." Kat sobbed again.

"You… you really mean that?" The blonde nodded. Her tears redoubled, but instead of letting her whimpers escape, Magnum smiled.  
"That's the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me. Him. Us. Ah, shit, I don't know…" her voice faded away, and the two girls sat in silence as the ship rattled into its warp pace, taking them home.

* * *

A/N: Well, a new series, and a new Fanfic. It might claim to be a Halo fic, but we all know it's Red vs Blue. See if you can guess which two Freelancers appear in this OC armada!

On a side-note, this one's going to be a little different to my Sonic fics. A little darker, and more centered on the main cast, but with original characters popping up all over the place, to help deal with their fan-made foe. No hints shall be given, so look forward to the next part of the intro, before we get into the full scheme of things.


	2. Rude Awakening

**Chapter One: Rude Awakening**

**_Washington DC, Earth, six months later_**

As he had for months beforehand, William S. Grif faded into consciousness, taking in the stark white walls, the plain sheets, and the large bouquets of flowers on the side tables. Unlike the other times, however, he didn't immediately shut his eyes and return to sleep for another few days. Instead, he stretched his arms, and blinked. This wasn't his room. Nor was it in the field. It was a…hospital? Alarmed, he started to sit up, but for some reason, his back didn't want to move as he remembered it. It was stiff, fixed in place, and numb. Extremely numb, with only the barest sensations reaching his brain. He sighed. He'd probably fallen asleep strangely, and lost feeling to his leg. It was common enough for him, but it didn't explain the hospital. The door opened, revealing an attractive nurse. She took one look at him, and left. He sighed. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place who. Instead, he settled back into bed. He could get used to this – never working, with attractive nurses taking care of his every need. As he began to relax into the fantasy, it was shattered by the nurses' return, this time with guests. The first was a tall, brown-haired man with a goatee and rather formal clothes, while the other was a glamorous Asiatic woman, her clothes still suggesting a formal style, but not to the same extent as the other. The man stepped forward, his voice sharp, commanding and, to the briefest extent, cocky.

"William S. Grif, how much do you remember?" Scotty sighed. This man used his full name; he had to be from Command. Everyone else called him Flare or Scotty. Then, it clicked.

"More than enough, Doctor Leonard Church." If he wanted to play at the full names, two can do it. "I recall everything up to an assault on a supercarrier's bridge. Then, it goes hazy. I kinda blur in and out of memories, so I can't piece what is real, and what's a dream." The Asiatic woman nodded.  
"Retrograde amnesia, it would seem." Scotty instantly looked at her, confused. The woman smiled. "Doctor Chen Zhao." It took the man in the hospital bed a few seconds to realize what she meant, and smiled.  
"Good to meet you, Doc. So, what's got one of the geniuses behind the A.I. program, and one of Project SPARTAN's greatest minds doing visiting a wounded soldier?" Dr. Church snorted.

"Well, you made it clear that you don't remember, so I'll make this gentle. You lost your right leg in the battle on the _Brute Stroke_." Scotty flinched visibly, but as he thought about it, he smirked.

"Sir, you have me confused with someone else. I can still feel my leg fine. Sure, my hips and torso is a little stiff, but I can feel it." The scientist looked at his colleague.  
"Your neural connections work, Chen. It's his goddamn brain that's the problem." Scotty frowned, and tried to lift himself up with his upper body. To his surprise, he couldn't.

"I know I'm lazy, but I'm pretty sure I'm fit enough to sit up and prove you wrong." With a sigh, the soldier flopped back down, annoyed.  
"You've been comatose for six months, so you've lost most of your body's fat reserves, and your muscle strength has faded. Agent William Grif, simply admit that there's a chance that you're wrong, and let us explain."

"Never. Ms. Zhao, now might be a good time to look away." Scotty waited for the woman to avert her gaze, before he kicked with his right leg, the one they claimed he lost. The sheer force of the movement threw him backwards, and launched the covers skywards, so they covered the nurse as she moved to help. Scotty's face went blank as he saw underneath the hospital gown he was clad in. He pulled it to one side to reveal his leg to the outside world, but still covered his modesty. His leg was gone. Not only that, but so appeared to be half of his pelvis, and part of his lower abdomen. All of it was now metallic, with a variety of techy-looking parts built I where the muscles used to be on the leg itself, plus a semi-flexible metallic coating over his right flank. He touched it, then looked at the two doctors in astonished silence.

"Now that you know we aren't lying to you, let me explain. You took a close-range non-linear Galelean Rifle burst through the right flank while engaged in combat with a Jiralhanae officer, the commander of the _Brute Stroke_. From what we understand, you killed him before passing out. You were returned to Earth by a team of four operatives from your operation – two Spartans, two Sanghelli commandos. When you arrived, it was grim – you'd lost a lot of blood, even in cryogenic storage. You received a full transfusion of blood as they repaired as much of the damage as they could, but it wasn't enough, so they called us in. Doctor Zhao is a former employee of Project HAYABUSA, who transferred to Project MJOLNIR when it won the UNSC contract. She has served with distinction in the area of cybernetics and artificial intelligence, a very similar area to myself. Together, we designed and built that leg for you – it should react like a normal human leg in day-to-day use, but to ensure your future return to military service, we fitted it with thrusters in the ankle, allowing you both to jump to great heights or slow down a decent to a survivable point without the use of a parachute or a thruster array pack. We also took the liberty of installing armor." Scotty waved his points away, something stuck in his mind.  
"My future return to the military? I lost a leg. If I ever get used to walking on a cybernetic leg, I'm going to take up the same lifestyle as my dad and uncle – lazing around the house. I'm a Grif. We aren't career soldiers. We get conscripted, because there's no real way to motivate us. I admit, most Grifs have talents that make us perfect soldiers, but only with training does that work, because we can't be bothered to join the army, or even learn in school. All we normally do is eat, watch TV and internet videos, sleep and get laid." The male scientist sighed.

"You were recommended to me by two former members of that team you led. Both of whom are part of a special project of mine, indirectly connected to the UNSC and designed to train super-soldiers, Spartans beyond those seen in the war. Your skills make you a perfect candidate for the group, with each agent named after a state of America. I was considering you for Agent California. My…" Dr. Church cleared his throat awkwardly, "friend, Allison, is a member, Agent Texas." Scott tilted his head, intrigued.

"So, if I get back to fighting condition, I get to join a team of super-soldiers. Allison recommended me…. would the other member happen to be Katrina Talthin?" The formal man smiled.  
"Who? Oh, yes. Agent Magnum, now known as Agent Connecticut. Yes, Katrina is a member." Scotty sighed.  
"Fine. Reserve me a spot. I guess I'll be entering rehabilitation soon, now that I'm awake."

Doctor Zhao spoke up, her faintly Chinese-accented English adding to her mysticism.  
"I, too, am starting up a program, known as WWFL." Instantly, she was cut off by the man in bed.

"Waffle? Strange name for a military group. It makes me hungry. Hey, nurse, can I get some food here? I'm starving!" The nurse dropped the bed sheets and left. Chen instantly took two steps forward and raised her hand to slap the man. At the last moment, she thought better of it, and sighed dejectedly.

"I'm sick of that joke. It's old, and I hear it all the time. No, it's the World Wide Freelancer Organization. I was wondering if you had a recommendation for a member, considering your experience as a mission leader." Scotty closed his eyes and thought about it. The face of a blonde man filled his memory, and he smiled.

"Mitchell Burke. He's an Australian countryman, and a decent shot. I'd recommend you look at him for membership." Dr. Zhao nodded, and walked to the door. Leonard stayed behind for a second, as if he wished to say something, but then he, too, left without a word. Scotty sighed, but then the nurse returned. He brightened up as she raised a bag of what looked like liquid food to his mouth… and then hooked it into a drip. He moaned as his brain took him back to what he'd just agreed to do – become a soldier again, and put in his most hated thing ever – EFFORT.

* * *

A/N: AAAND... meet William S. Grif, AKA Agent Flare/Scotty, one of my many OCs in this story. Doctor Church is kind of obvious as the Director, while Doctor Chen Zhao belongs to Guten-Morgen of DeviantArt, one of her multitude of OCs as well. Soon enough, this story will return to the RvB you all know and love. Yes, he is related to Grif, as a cousin.

So, yeah, until the next chapter - get ready for Season 10 of RvB, less than a week away!


	3. Arrival

**Chapter Two: Arrival**

**Unidentified shield world, heading through a passage towards the canyon known as "Blood Gulch", present day.**

"Now, listen up. Command felt it appropriate that we get new bases on a new planet, in order to reward us for the destruction of the Meta. These bases are brand new, and of a modular construction, so we can get in more parts whenever we need them." Behind his helmet, Simmons smirked. With Sarge at the wheel and Blues in the back, the personnel carrying Warthog had been bounced around a little, but nobody was injured, at least, not quite. Both Grif and Church were sprawled over the center row of seats, groaning as Sarge swerved over a fresh set of obstacles. The motion sent the tail-end swinging out, and Grif groaned as he was thrown around his seat. In the rear seat, facing the back, Caboose flailed around, as if on a rollercoaster.  
"This is the most fun I've had for ages!" he shouted over the communicators. Simmons couldn't help himself, this was too funny.  
"Lighten up, Grif. It's just another pointless campaign for Sarge to kill you on. He's not going to kill you on the first day." The orange-armored Spartan's irate reply was drowned out by Sarge.  
"Like hell I'm not! If I wasn't drivin', I'd have shot him already. 'Stead, I gotta be the god-damn taxi driver for a couple o' dirty Blues, and the strangest damn excuse for a soldier I ever seen!"  
"Gee, thanks. Say what you really feel, Sarge." Grif retaliated, a groan bursting through the speakers as Sarge purposely swung the tail-end of the Warthog into the canyon walls.  
"Wha? Sorry, can't talk; too busy tryin' ta kill you."  
"Oh, whoopee. I just LOVE being driven by a psychopath. If I'd wanted to be killed, I'd have asked Caboose to drive. At least that way, I go out in a blaze of glory." Church, like Grif, had mastered the sarcastic tone and all it carried. Simmons sighed. The sooner Sarge offloaded the Blues and saw the new base, the sooner he could go back to insulting Grif and fiddling with the new computers.

**Years earlier, UNSC ODST training base.**

"Watch me now, sir!" The perky, upbeat voice of the recruit rang through into Scotty's brain. He sighed, lowering the rangefinder back on the targeting range, ready to watch.  
"Go ahead. Fire when ready." As the former field agent watched, the young trainee started to shoot the targets. Of course, not once did she hit a bull's-eye on the zombie-styled targets, not a single headshot. However, the agent noted, her shots were all reasonably consistent, each one striking the shoulder of the synthetic Flood-beasts and burning a hole through. He released the rangefinder, letting it simply plop onto the ground, and for a second, he missed his helmet.

"I don't think you've quite got it, Sam." With a sigh and the preparation for pain, Scotty hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his organic ankle from exertion. He walked over to the girl, barely eighteen and all gangly arms and legs, and grasped the sniper rifle, hard. While he still was training to get back into shape, Scotty was a bulky man with military training. No matter what the trainee tried, there was no way she was going to get the rifle off him. Instead, she lay down like a traditional spotter, grasping the rangefinder he discarded, and set herself up as his spotter.

"Ok, X4, I want pattern twenty, codeword: Dream Crusher."

"_Understood, Sergeant Grif. Dream Crusher Protocol engaged."_

Within seconds, the Flood-bots had retreated, and instead, a single Spartan-III simulation appeared, armed with a curved kukri field knife, around five hundred meters away. The robot bounced around a little, as if preparing for a close combat bout. Without his armor, Scotty felt naked facing these odds. Sure, he'd made shots like this plenty of times before, but always in armor, and always with one of the others at his back. Magnum, for the most part. Or X-ray. Or, since the Covenant Separation, Slay'ethor. Not to mention the fact that he hated these rifles. Sniper rifles. Sure, they could pick off a tank driver over two klicks away, but they weighed a lot more than an energy-based weapon. Inhale, focus, exhale. Inhale, sight, exhale. Slowly, despite the armored girl on the side feeding him tactical information, Scotty let his mind drift. He watched his sight, adjusting carefully for the drift his arms provided. He ignored the posturing of the Spartan, its simulated gestures designed to distract and aggravate a novice. Instead, he prepared himself, and began to tune into his environment with his other senses. He could hear Sam's nervous breath, the simulacrum's actions obviously unnerving her. He heard the footfalls of two armored soldiers behind, and that brought a smile to his face. He had an audience. How cute. Finally, the robot bolted, accelerating faster than any ODST or standard soldier would. Scotty simply focused a little harder, and pulled the trigger. The robot had barely covered half the distance from its start position to the snipers nest when the bullet took it in the visor, the impact strong enough to knock it to the ground. A slow, methodical clap rang out from the newcomers as Flare placed the sniper rifle down next to the trainee.  
"Hit the showers, Sam. It would appear I've got a meeting." The young ODST-in-training, clad in her gray and pink armor, threw a quick salute to the officer, before she bolted off. The two Spartans smiled; their helmets off and under their arms. The front officer, clad in brown and silver armor, extended his hand towards the unarmored soldier.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Agent New York of the Freelancer Program." Scotty quickly sized the man up, especially the milky-white eye and scarring on his face. He shook York's hand, impressed that the man was still serving with such an injury. The purple and green-clad man waited until York stepped to the side. Again, he offered a handshake.  
"Agent North Dakota, same program. That's an impressive skill you have there." Scotty simply smiled modestly as he returned the handshake.

"I've been told it's a gift. I'm Sergeant William Grif, but call me Scotty. Look, can we chat back at the canteen? I'm kinda hungry, haven't eaten in about an hour and a half." North and York both nodded, and the trio headed inside. A single flash of Scotty's ID, and the trio had a private booth table on the side of the room. All three placed orders, although Scotty's eclipsed the other two by a rather large amount. Finally, Scotty spoke. "Ok, tell me. What's Project Freelancer looking at me for? Is the Director getting a little impatient? I mean, it's been only a year since I lost my leg…" North shrugged, a little uncertain, but York shook his head.

"No, that's not why we're here." York sighed, a little annoyed. "Well, yes, the Director is getting annoyed you're taking your time, but that's beside the point. We were asked to come out and tell you about a test coming up, for all the prospective agents who haven't gotten in." The conversation stopped for a while as an attractive waitress walked over, sliding the meals to each of the three soldiers.

"Anyway, there's a big training thing coming up, where the main agents assess each of the recruits, see if their up to scratch, that sort of thing. From what we just saw, you've defiantly got the skill to serve as a sniper. I should know, I'm the current long-range expert." North smiled at the large man, who simply continued to shovel the food into his mouth, not even making the effort to stop while talking.

"Saw, oo goies cam to tell meh abaut…" York couldn't contain a laugh at the larger man's actions, while Scotty forced his body to swallow the large ball of food in his mouth.  
"So, you guys came to tell me about this trial? What, is a comm call too expensive for Project Freelancer? Oh, I know, there's a fucking radio blackout, and they have to spare two agents to tell me something. Couldn't they have sent Kat to talk to me?" North rubbed his fingers against his temples, as if to ward off a headache.  
"What, Connie? Nah, you don't want to talk to her. She's all bitter, snarky and violent one second, the next, she's either making out with Washington, or making out with his twin sister." York sniggered. However, that laugh was cut off when both North and Scotty looked at him strange.  
"C.T. and my sister?" North repeated, mystified.  
"Washington? Who the fuck is Washington!"

**Present Day, "Blood Gulch"**

Sarge rolled the troop-carrier Warthog into the neutral zone, directly between Red and Blue bases. Behind, the others slowly rolled up, with a multitude of vehicles split between them. Shiela, complete with Tex on-board, simply drove straight past the parked jeep, heading for Blue base. By contrast, Tucker and his one-wheeled motorcycle simply skidded to a halt, right behind the jeep.

"Wash and the others are coming, they'll be a little late. Just give me a sec, I'm gonna go grab a car, then I'll get you guys back to base." Caboose nodded.  
"Okay!"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. I don't give a shit." Church growled as he dragged himself from the Warthog's rear seat. Grif, on the other hand, simply dived out of the seat, ripped his helmet off, and threw up.

"Goddamnit soldier, what did I tell ya about showin everyone ya lunch?" Sarge bellowed, accompanied by Simmons's snickering.

"I fucking…hate….you. Screw you…." Sarge noisily cracked his knuckles. "Screw you, sir."

"That's better. Anyway, command left a message. Somethin bout sendin both Red and Blue teams some new soldiers…'parrantly, a couple of bases were shut down, so we get the soldiers. Plus, some straight from the academy!"  
"Oh, great. A group of fucking rookies."

"Rrrr…Simmons, next time he talks, shoot him. Anywho, we've got two weeks to explore an get settled, before they arrive. Now, get goin!" Slowly, the Blues turned to leave.

"I SAID LEAVE, BLUETARDS!"


End file.
